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Mac attack
Jul. 1st, 2007 01:18 pmSo, our iMac is home at last.
But, the whole experience has been fucking weird, to say the least.
Snotty Genius Bar Dude told us Saturday was the earliest we might get our baby. We gave the store a phone number, but heard no updates. So, tiki called the store. We called the phone number of the local store, mind you, but once the automated operator gave us the option for repairs, it bumped us to another, apparently national, repair line. This was the first level of the weird, as we had some kind of quaint notion of calling our local shop and actually talking to some guy. Thus, after successfully navigating the menu prompts, we had to hang up and go fish out our work order, and then find some sort of obscure number on the work order, and then start all over again with the disembodied Gods of Mac.
Anywho, the repair line indicated the unit was "repaired and ready for pickup." And, that was it. No info on what the problem was, or what it would cost us to escape the store with a working Mac.
So, we tossed what has become iMac's special car blankie (Invader Zim!) into the trunk and lit off for the Apple store. We arrived to find...chaos. There was the expected roiling crowd at the Genius Bar, but no indication in the splendidly minimalist store on how to insert our names into their wacky space age graphics as next in line.
Finally, a security guard took pity on us and inquired behind the sooper sekrit Employees Only door. After repeating our story to the succession of store employees who emerged, we finally weilded aforesaid work order to a puzzled clerk. He immediately brightened upon seeing a bar code, and, after checking us both for 6 forms of ID, he left to retrieve our 'pooter.
It was then just a simple matter of deciding how one actually exchanges money in an Apple store (evidently, this had never happened before), and we were homeward bound.
We also learned that Mr. Tiki will not have lived a satisfying and fulfilling life until he is in possession of an iPhone, which is (he assures us) the coolest thing EVAR in the universe.
But, the whole experience has been fucking weird, to say the least.
Snotty Genius Bar Dude told us Saturday was the earliest we might get our baby. We gave the store a phone number, but heard no updates. So, tiki called the store. We called the phone number of the local store, mind you, but once the automated operator gave us the option for repairs, it bumped us to another, apparently national, repair line. This was the first level of the weird, as we had some kind of quaint notion of calling our local shop and actually talking to some guy. Thus, after successfully navigating the menu prompts, we had to hang up and go fish out our work order, and then find some sort of obscure number on the work order, and then start all over again with the disembodied Gods of Mac.
Anywho, the repair line indicated the unit was "repaired and ready for pickup." And, that was it. No info on what the problem was, or what it would cost us to escape the store with a working Mac.
So, we tossed what has become iMac's special car blankie (Invader Zim!) into the trunk and lit off for the Apple store. We arrived to find...chaos. There was the expected roiling crowd at the Genius Bar, but no indication in the splendidly minimalist store on how to insert our names into their wacky space age graphics as next in line.
Finally, a security guard took pity on us and inquired behind the sooper sekrit Employees Only door. After repeating our story to the succession of store employees who emerged, we finally weilded aforesaid work order to a puzzled clerk. He immediately brightened upon seeing a bar code, and, after checking us both for 6 forms of ID, he left to retrieve our 'pooter.
It was then just a simple matter of deciding how one actually exchanges money in an Apple store (evidently, this had never happened before), and we were homeward bound.
We also learned that Mr. Tiki will not have lived a satisfying and fulfilling life until he is in possession of an iPhone, which is (he assures us) the coolest thing EVAR in the universe.
